


Just My Type

by SSDriscool



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ( exes ) Matt and Bruce, Basically 616 Clint in the MCU, Deaf Clint Barton, Friends w/ benefits Clintasha, M/M, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, One Shot, brief mention of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 09:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSDriscool/pseuds/SSDriscool
Summary: Two bleeding hearts meet in a shabby bar. They won't make it far together, but they'll remember what it is to have fun if just for the night.





	Just My Type

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a collector of obscure ships and I doubt it gets any more obscure than this. This fic is completely inspired by the "it's like your photoshopped" scene in Crazy Stupid Love. ( Just think Wilson Bethel instead of Gosling. )

“Fuck, _seriously_ …” Foggy sighed and it was done so softly that Clint almost didn’t pick it up. “It’s like you’re photoshopped,” he finished with a vague gesture from his spot on the couch.

Clint’s only initial answer to that was a soft rumble of laughter. The touch of a healthy flush came to his cheeks at the flattery, too. The archer gave his recently healed shoulder an experimental roll as he licked his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.” His shirt dropped to the floor and his fingers moved to the buckle of his belt, if only to note the way Foggy’s eyes lingered on the movement.

“Thanks but I’m not much to write home about. Just round and…”

“And cute…” Clint interrupted, “And probably really damn hot when you’re all flustered with your thighs quivering…” The thought slipped off his tongue with ease. His words served as a truthful distraction, neither of them here to console each other through their personal insecurities. If they were, they wouldn’t be planning on fucking for fun in order to try and forget about their respective exes. Clint counted his stars he had found someone so easy going and so early in the night. He certainly wouldn’t let their fun falter or take a dive now. His abdominal muscles tensed with the pull of his belt as he freed it from denim loops, Clint unsure if the flush on Foggy’s face was from his words or the picture he painted but he’d take it either way.

“I… it’s been a while.” Foggy stated suddenly. His hands rubbed over the slacks hugged to thick thighs as he tried to ignore the heat that rose to his face. He felt like a college kid seeing Matt in the gym for the first time, and **Christ** … was that a thought he didn’t want to be having right now. So he instead focused on the man before him, focused on how much taller and broader he was in comparison to _a certain lawyer_. His eyes lingered on the way bulging biceps coiled and flexed under pale skin as Clint stretched out and sauntered a little closer. His gut clamped tight with the need to feel that strength firmly holding him down.

“Don’t worry… The night’s young and I’m down to takes things slow. If things go well, I can promise we’ll both be sore by morning…” Clint grinned. Foggy interrupted from his train of thought as he swallowed heavily. His hand raised to finally loosen the knot of the tie he still hadn’t bothered to remove. He felt overdressed, and yet oddly thrilled by the difference in their state of dress. Clint pants remained buttoned but hung dangerously low on his hips when he came to a stop just a few feet shy of Foggy.

The diminished space forced Foggy to look up to meet Clint’s eyes, and if his own gaze had taken in every little twitch of muscle and scar on its journey upwards, then who could blame him? His lips parted to comment on the man’s physique, once more, before the sight of the distinct purple device attached to Clint’s ear stopped him. “I know ASL… if - if that helps… if you want to take that off,” he clarified with a gesture to the taller man’s ear.

Clint raised a brow at the unexpected words and rested his hands on his hips. “You know sign language… why?”

Foggy shrugged and relaxed back into the sofa to better focus on the way Clint seemed to loom over him. “I… have a blind law partner, and disabled clients frequently enough that it seemed like it would be a helpful thing to know…” Which it was. His chest felt too tight as he thought about the smile Matt gave him when he first suggested the idea.

“Oh… you have somewhere safe I can put it?” Clint questioned. His lips tugged up into the hint of a grateful smile while he reached to take the aid off. The hearing aid wouldn’t last too long given his chosen profession, and Stark was likely to give him a replacement that was too high-tech for his tastes. But the thought of asking Bruce to keep it alive for him turned his gut a little. They hadn’t talked since the break-up, and Clint hastily pushed those thoughts away when Foggy’s hands started moving.

 _There’s a key tray on the kitchen counter_ , Foggy signed with practiced ease. His hands removed his tie and worked open the first few buttons of his shirt when Clint finally turned his attention away from him. He would’ve finished unbuttoning it completely had he not gotten distracted by the sway of the archer’s ass. Foggy left wondering how well the blond would fill out a pair of properly tailored slacks.

“I’ve had plenty of practice reading lips, so if your hands are too busy to say something then just get my attention with your mouth.” Clint stated when he turned around, and the mischievous grin that accompanied those words caused Foggy to shiver. His head rested back against the couch as Clint stepped up to him and slipped a hand through his parted shirt. The warm, callus press of the other’s man touch dragged a soft moan from the back of his throat and made his slacks feel all the more tighter. It had been too long since he experienced this kind of skin-to-skin contact, ~~not since~~ …

Luckily, for Foggy, the sudden brush of a thumb against his lip cut his thoughts short and made him realize he had closed his eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking… what you want.” Clint breathed out, as his thumbed ran over Foggy’s bottom lip and then against the tip of his tongue.

It took Foggy’s brain a second to catch up and then he realized how Clint wanted him to answer. His lips sealed around the pad of a thumb, he hummed low and began to sign with as much composure as possible: _I want to suck you off_. And wow, it was so much easier to express that to a near stranger when he didn’t have to fight the inevitable quiver in his voice.

Clint hummed long and thoughtfully at Foggy’s response. His blue eyes were bright with mirth and intent as he pulled his thumb from the other man’s lips. “Off the couch. On your knees,” he spoke, with no room for objection. This wasn’t Clint’s usual stick, playing bossy in bed something he tended to be on the receiving end of, however, this night wasn’t about routine. And at the end of the day, he got the most pleasure from simply servicing and pleasuring someone else. If that meant being the more dominant, in control party for the night than so be it.

Foggy was quick to follow orders. His shirt rumpled and chest flushed. He dropped down to his knees and was painfully aware that his nose was perfectly leveled with Clint’s crotch. The slight press of arousal against denim impossible to miss from a view this close. His mouth dry with the desire to know what was hidden in Clint’s quiver, and wasn’t **that** a pun he’d be embarrassed about thinking up if hadn’t been sure his current company would approve. Foggy's breath caught his throat when Clint finally popped open the button to his jeans. The part of a fly revealed nothing more than a crop of sandy blond pubic hair. Commando was a nice look on the man and he reached down to palm a hand between his own legs.

“Tell me, Fogs…” The more ridiculous nickname than his usual one caught Foggy’s attention and stopped him from leaning forward to press his nose in. His lustful gaze flicked up to Clint’s face. “What sounds better to you…? Your face in the mattress and my cock stretching you open… or me riding you for long and hard enough that it hurts to come…?” The problem with most people sex lives was they lacked a little imagination, if you asked Clint. There were plenty of ways to be dominant in the bedroom and Natasha had done a damn fine job of opening his eyes to that, years ago.

Foggy lifted his hands to answer and Clint grabbed them with his own. The shorter man’s hands guided to his opened jeans and the shapely impression of an erection, as Clint's gaze dropped to the lawyer's lips. It became clear to Foggy then where the blond wanted his answer to come from.

“Either… _both_ … fuck - **please** …?” Foggy huffed out before his tongue dragged over his suddenly dry lips, knowing that Clint's eyes were glued to them. His fingers squeezed around the heat of arousal that he could feel practically seeping through jeans. It’s the feeling of that thick girth and the way it filled his palm that caused him to groan low.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun.” Clint smiled and fisted his hand into Foggy’s hair. The other man’s head pulled back for a dirty kiss that made him quickly forget the strain on his neck. Foggy was still trying to catch his breath when Clint pulled back. His lips tucked under enamel as he watched Clint push his pants down and coax him forward. His parted lips wrapped around a crowning tip and slid down to the base with practiced ease.

Fun, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


End file.
